Stephen Bisciotti Novels & Stories

It would be a real slap in the face if they failed their development, too! Understanding the gravity of the situation, Stephen asked, "They took Irene? Is she in danger?" "You think?!" Isaac was frustrated by the sheer stupidity surrounding him. "Who did you give it to?" "Tobey Kitsch," Stephen replied. "He's the deputy director of Hotmesh Research." That was when James returned with the man in question. Since Tobey was an important man, James was not physically restraining him, instead staying behind him and keeping a keen eye to stop him from running away.

the receptionist replied, “but Mr. Scott’s schedule is fully booked today. Without an appointment, I cannot allow you to see him.” Stephanie’s irritation grew. She leaned forward slightly. “Do you even know who I am? I’m Stephanie Newton. My father is Alexander Newton, owner of Newton Chain of Hotels. Mr. Scott would want to see me. Now, stop wasting my time and let me through.” The receptionist’s professional smile didn’t falter, though her tone became more assertive. “Mr. Scott’s schedule is strictly managed, Ms. Newton. Even high-profile clients need to schedule appointments. I’m afraid I can’t make any exceptions.”

After the whole situation calmed a bit, he took out his phone from his pocket. "Shit!" He cursed seeing the missed calls from both detective Joha and Captain Depay but as he tried to return their calls, his phone beeped low battery and tripped off.

He plays the footage from the camera flash he got from the lab. We carefully watch everything in the video. Alpha Tate’s wolf wasn’t comfortable seeing it again, he’s growling and radiating anger energy from his body, but we had to watch it. It’s the only way to know who these scientists are. “There.” He points at the screen. Oliver pauses the video, taking it back a little and stops at the face of one of the doctors. “Isn’t that Justin’s father?” Oliver asks, staring at the screen intensely. He does look exactly like Justin though.

My eyebrows furrowed. “You have no idea what he’s capable of, have you? He’s a billionaire. Do you know how deep his connections are? He’s Wallace Winston and Beatreigh Braddson’s son, Mosses Braddson’s nephew, and an investor at Osmium. Those guys at Osmium are deadly. You’ve met Gabe Linden.” “Stop.” I growled as I raised a hand. “Stop scaring me and reminding me of what kind of people Lake is.” Then I heard a strong vibration. “Is that your phone vibrating?” We stared at each other, almost comical. “Shit.”

“When he has all that money, Brienstein would be too pleased to back him up to get into the congress.” “Who is Brienstein?” Myra asked, remembering she had heard that name when she bugged Cal’s office on her first day at the penthouse. “A devil. The very reason why we cannot let Tyson win.” “I don’t understand any of this,” Myra said, shaking her head, suddenly very confused. She was supposed to be a detective. Why was her brain feeling so slow today?” “Andrew Brienstein is a fellow congressman who has been in the Congress longer than I have. He is friends with every business person, and has tea with every new Hollywood sensation."

Vicktor called Vito to check the finances. “Hello, everyone!” said Vito. Tikhon explained to him why he was there. All he demanded was bitter black coffee and he started working on the books. It took him under an hour to follow the money. He found millions in the name of Stephan hidden in multiple banks. He was not only taking kickbacks from the vigilantes, but he was also skimming from the books.

After all, the CEO was like a god at the company. "Are you upset?" Caroline looked at Stephanie, who was visibly dissatisfied. She said, "Doesn't your office have surveillance? Go, get the footage!" Stephanie said quickly, "Ms. Evans, is this really necessary?" If it turned out to be as Caroline said, wouldn't it make it impossible for her to step down from her position? Stephanie understood that this was something between interpersonal relationships, so she didn't want to escalate further.

Giggling awkwardly, Stephanie glanced at the elderly man at the head of the table and gave a quick shake of her head. “Not at all, sir. Although I rarely receive such invitations, strangely enough, I’m not surprised today.” “Oh? Is that so?” the chairman replied, leaning back in his oversized leather swivel chair. His face, dignified yet marked with age, creased into a thoughtful frown. “Yes, sir,” Stephanie said with a polite nod, trying to steady her voice. The chairman, Mr. Gary Robert, was an Italian man who had spent most of his life in the United States. He was well-respected in business circles, known for his sharp mind, calm demeanor, and sense of fairness. But when necessary, he cou